Mellow
by WittyNameHere1443
Summary: Sam and Dean on a case, things don't go as planned and Dean learns that little girls are evil.  DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING


**Authors Note: I was cleaning out my old computer and found this. It's the first spn fic I ever wrote back when I had only seen like four episode. I figured I'd post it for shits and giggles**

Another night, another hunt, another seven hour ride in the car with Sammy blabbering on next to me. I know he's probably saying something important but his voice is so hard to listen to, I just end up fading in and out. No, I should listen. Something about the spirit, something about the house...oh Christ he's going on about shit he learned in college again. Like he's so great because he went to college. I could go to college, if I wasn't so busy busting my ass saving people. Shit, I just missed a bunch there- ooo I love this song. Crazy, but that's how it goes. Millions of people living as foes.

"Dean are you listening to a word I'm saying?" Sam snapped in that stupid voice he uses when he treats me like a child.

"Yup, every word."

"Ok...what was I talking about then?"

Shit, now what? "The job, you were talking about the job."

"What about the job?" he turned in his seat so he can look at me, watch me squirm. The sick bastard. After about thirty seconds of watching me try to pull an answer out of my ass he rolled his eyes and put on his self righteous voice. "Damnitt Dean, this is important."

"I know but...you're boring," I moved uncomfortably in my seat, not enjoying the feeling of being under my baby brother's hateful gaze. "Ok, look, I'll listen now." To make a point I even turned off the stereo even though it was coming up to the best part of the song, the things I do for this kid. "See? No distractions...talk away and I'll try to stay awake."

"Anyway, as I was saying," and he's doing that fucking glare thing again. Jesus Christ, when did my brother suddenly become my annoyed wife? "This is bigger than our usual job and needs to be handled carefully. This spirit isn't just your usual poltergeist haunting a house scenario, it was conjured."

"Another god damn witch? Jesus, how does anybody expect us to get any work done helping the helpless when we've got humans lining up to sign their soul away for some nifty magic tricks?"

"It's not a witch dean, it's a little boy actually. He got a toy from a garage sale, turns out the thing was cursed, possessed with the spirit of the last child it killed and now the girl is going crazy in their house."

"Right, so take care of the spirit, save the kid...doesn't seem too hard." I shrugged, poor Sammy, afraid of a little girl ghost. He must be losing his edge if he thinks a job this straight forward is worth discussing. I mean come on, how tough could one little girl be?

*********************

I thought back on that moment of ignorance in the car, I would have laughed if I wasn't having my head smashed against the wall by the craziest little fucker I had ever seen. This was no normal spirit, this little bitch was on steroids. I know they have special strength but come on, she just chucked me through the air. It also didn't help that the little boy seemed to think the bitch was his special imaginary friend and that we were bad men trying to take her away, Kind of hard to protect a kid when he's coming after you with a knife.

As I was soaring through the air towards the inevitable wall on the other side of the room I couldn't help but wonder where the fuck this kids parents were. I winced in pain as my body crashed into the cement wall and finally sunk to the floor. "Dean, a little help here!" I heard by oblivious baby brother call out.

"Sorry Sam, here I am wasting all my time trying to learn to fucking fly. Just give me a second." I winced at the sharp pains that ran up and down my body as I tried to once again return to a standing position. I had almost made it to an upright stance when a very sharp pain hit me square in the stomach, knocking all the wind out of me. I looked down in horror to see the little boy holding the handle of a knife, the blade of which was deeply imbedded in my torso. "Leave my friend alone bad man," he demanded as he yanked the knife out and watched as I slid back down to the floor, trying to hold in the blood that was now pouring out of the knife hole in my stomach.

I'm so fucked, correction/...I would be so fucked if that kid knew anything about how to probably stab a guy. As things stood currently I was going to be fine as long as I made it to the hospital in the next hour or so. The problem about stomach wounds is that they hurt like fuck. Well, they hurt for a little while at least. It's amazing to me how little blood the body has to lose before things start to go a bit fuzzy. I vaguely remember Sam shouting my name and remember seeing him try to make a run for me but the spirit was there waiting and sent him playing into a wall. It was amazing how something as big as Sammy could soar so well. How, he's getting the shit beat out of him...heh, this is actually kind of fun. Uh oh, I can't feel my arms.

The next thing I regained consciousness to was Sam's face leaning over me as I lay in bed. This wasn't the bed I woke up in, didn't have the spring stabbing me right in the spine like at the motel we had been in the night before. This one felt like it was trying to be soft but failed miserably. Looking up he say horrible florescent lights and stupid tiles probably filled with asbestoses. "What the hell?"

"Dean?" my brother shouted in excitement though the way he sounded in my ears gave me the illusion that we were trying to communicate under water. "Dean oh thank god, I thought I was going to lose you."

"Offed by one little knife from a kid? Fat chance little bro...where the hell am I?" I tried to sit up but was hit with a wave of dizziness. Strangely enough there was no pain reverberating in my stomach as I knew there should be...that can't be right. Looking around again I saw that I was in fact connected to a bunch of wires and machines and shit. Oh Sammy no, you didn't. "A hospital? Why did you bring me to a hospital?"

Cue angry puppy look, "gee dean, I don't know...cause you'd been stabbed? Because you'd passed out from blood loss?"

I tried to get up again but once more failed so I gave up and resigned myself to my laying fate. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Umm.." Sam smiled and averted his gaze from me, "they've got you pretty hoped up there."

"Really?" I let myself stop trying to concentrate, sinking deeper and deeper into the wonderful calmness that pain killers allow. This was fantastic. "Hey thanks Sammy," I reached over to what I knew was the control to my IV and turned it up a little. "This is fucking great. You want some?" my voice was starting to sound a bit slurred as I held up my IV to Sam as if offering him a sandwich.

"No thanks dude, you enjoy," he laughed and I just shrugged and closed my eyes to enjoy the sinking feeling once again.

"Dude, this is way better than all the magic fingers in the world." I sighed happily, finally finding peace in a synthetically induced stupor.


End file.
